


relief

by irinokat



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irinokat/pseuds/irinokat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>newt is touch-starved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	relief

**Author's Note:**

> The format of this is a little weird, I know. I originally was just planning on posting it to my tumblr (irinokat.tumblr.com), where I've been making other such posts about my personal headcanons, but this one turned into a short story somewhere in the writing and people seem to like it, so I thought it'd fit in over here. If any of the other little drabbles turn into stories in the same way, I might post them here too.

newt is touch starved.

it wasn’t so bad in the first few years of the war. the k-science team was at least five people at each shatterdome he transferred to, and people were friendly, almost jovial, certain that the jaeger program would succeed. sure, the first time he met hermann, his outstretched arms were met with a firm “no,” and that hadn’t given their in-real-life relationship much weight, but he was one of a few who didn’t like touch and newt could respect that. he had plenty of other people to hug and poke and brush and hold and fuck.

the years dragged on. jaegers went down. the atmosphere became more tense and dreary as the funding dropped and the kaiju rose. newt’s tattoos began to put people off, a grim reminder of their enemies rather than a tribute to the fallen. he stopped making friends with jaeger pilots. as the k-science team shrank, he stopped making friends with anyone.

every once in a while in the lab, he can sense hermann standing a few yards away, focused on his blackboards, covered in chalk and old spice and a tacky sweater. he can’t tell whether his desire to hug hermann now is still the silly crush he’d retained from the letter days or if it’s just desperation, the need to feel someone else’s warmth near him. he finds himself standing near hermann during meetings and discussions, only remembering at the last moment to pull his gestures in or to avoid rubbing hermann’s arm. 

raleigh puts a hand on his shoulder and even though it’s condescending as hell, the feel of flesh through his shirt is so comforting in a basic, human way that newt almost gets angrier when the younger man steps out of the elevator. he touches hermann then, pushes him really, frustrated more by the quick touch than any period without. hermann gives him a questioning look as he fumes in the elevator, but doesn’t move any closer.

hands on his neck, his back, his arms. newt opens his eyes to see hermann leaning over him, shouting, holding him - are those tears in his eyes? newt realizes that at some point, his arms found their way around hermann too, and the man isn’t protesting. he listens to hermann scold him as he tries to get his breath back, basks in the warmth that is hermann’s chest against his cheek.

after that, the touches are small and chaotic - a knife up the nose, rough grip on the cheek, shoving people out of the way, fighting for a walkie talkie. they make him feel more like shit than human. when hermann comes, he avoids him, not wanting to pass on his dirt. after seeing his childhood in the drift and how much he hated the way his parents forced him to touch everyone, newt even hesitates to let his fingers brush hermann’s when he hands him a handkerchief.

to his surprise, hermann puts his own hand on newt’s shoulder as they wait to disembark the helicopter. he stays close to newt as they watch and direct striker and danger, bumping shoulders with him and herc. it’s hermann who turns to hug him when the throat collapses. it’s hermann who moves towards him when the clock stops. newt throws his arm around his shoulder and squeezes, hard, not sure he’ll ever let go again.


End file.
